


Comfort Me

by Sar_Kalu



Series: all the Erin Gilbert angst [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Finally, I have somethings I wrote when I was a teenager that can top this, SUCK IT, because i'm sorry, but not by much, character exploration? kinda, erin gilbert is one repressed gal, i read way too much cormack mccarthy, i'm complete holtzbert trash, i'm not even sorry about that, jillian is an excellent girlfriend, like top notch friendship here, lots of run on sentences because that's the style i'm using, not just coz she's hot, okay so this is the biggest goddamn angstfest ever, she has a good cry in this, she's a really good bro, that then becomes love, we all need a holtz in our lives, well not ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sar_Kalu/pseuds/Sar_Kalu
Summary: The aftermath of Erin's Mother's visit... thankfully, Holtz is there to pick up the pieces...





	

The silence stretches onwards as Erin sits at her desk and ignores the ebb and flow of time around her. The pen in her hand cuts into the skin and bone of her right index fingers and she can feel the indentation that the pressure has marked into her thumb as she very carefully rewrites her latest theory out for the fifth time on a clean sheet of note paper. She has done this for so long now, that the lines of the mathematical equation no longer look like they are describing a physics theory, and now look like so many blue lines scrawled over bleached white paper. 

Across the room, Holtzmann is tinkering with two sheets of metal, screwing them together, soldering designs over them, and then taking them apart and hammering the designs into a mush of divots and metal filings. Then she starts up again. 

Erin is ignoring her.

Determinedly. Desperately. Doggedly.

Holtzmann had pressed her originally, once Erin’s Mother had realised that pressing her daughter into returning “home” with her was a fruitless endeavour. Abby had guided the elderly woman out, hand pressed to the weeping widows elbow and staring over at Erin like she had just betrayed everything they all stood for.

Erin had looked away, refusing to watch her Mother walk out or see Abby’s judgemental gaze. It had been bad enough that she had been able to hear Abby’s assurances that she would talk Erin around; that they would all at the funeral had been almost enough to make Erin cry. The moment the door to the second floor lab had swung shut, Erin had immediately sat behind her desk and began rewriting out her new theory on apparitions and a potential way to estimate where they might appear next.

Holtzmann had lingered for a moment, watching Erin carefully press her pen to the paper and slowly describe each number and line with the kind of intensity normally reserved for busting ghosts. Then the blonde engineer had approached, her moth opening as if she was about to say something only for Erin’s furious gaze to suddenly snap up and pin Holtzmann in place.

“Not one word, Holtzmann,” Erin had said coldly, her green gaze burning with the ferocity of a thousand suns. She raised her hand and jabbed the end of the pen in Holtzmann’s direction, “not one word.”

Holtzmann had raised both hands immediately, placating but also silently apologising, before backing away and retreating to her lab bench where she had remained. To Erin’s knowledge, Holtz hasn’t actually done anything but screw panels of metal together and then unscrew them again. Thus far, as much as Erin has been able to count, Holtz has ruined close to fourteen panels and flinched five times when Erin had finished jotting down her equation and then proceeded to rip it out of the note book and shred the neatly described theory into pieces before dropping it into the bin unceremoniously.

Erin’s on her sixth rewrite of the equation. Holtz is on her fifteenth panel. And Abby has not returned from wherever she has taken Erin’s Mother. Patty is upstate visiting her relatives and Erin has never been so glad that the Tolan’s are a large, busy, and close-knit family. Erin’s mortified enough that Holtz now knows how intolerant of her family she is; she doesn’t think she could stand it if Patty had been here today.

“Erin?” Holtzmann’s voice is soft, gentle, and scared as she breaks the crushing silence.

Erin’s lips thin, but she remains determinedly silent still, eyes fixed on the equation beneath her pen and the feeling of the hard plastic and metal cutting into her soft scholars hand and the way the paper is smooth and cold beneath her skin. 

“Erin,” Holtzmann breathes near silently, putting her screw driver down and resting her calloused hands against the work bench. “Erin,” Holtzmann repeats a third time and Erin cannot deny her much longer because her neck and shoulder muscles are not only tight but near rigid from trying not to look up and she’s so focused on not noticing Holtzmann, that Erin damn near jumps out of her skin when Holtz slams her hands down on Erin’s desk either side of Erin’s equation and a thick, ugly line cuts right through the middle as Erin cuts off a high pitched shriek of surprise.

“What, Holtzmann?” Erin snaps, her eyes are burning when she stares up at Holtz, her lips are thin and she looks like she might cry. Holtzmann’s mouth dips down unhappily, but she’s just as determined as Erin is.

Holtzmann presses her hands flatter against the cheap wood of the desk and looms over Erin with narrowed eyes. “You’re angry and, from what I know, you have every right to be,” Holtz tells her, her voice tight and short as though she has run a great distance to get to Erin and Erin’s eyes drop in shame and embarrassment, but she doesn’t speak and Holtz makes a sound of frustration in return. “But you do not get to shut me out,” Holtz says finally, realising that Erin is not going to speak, “I am your friend, Erin, I love you, but I swear to god, you need to learn to share your problems.”

“Fuck you, Holtz,” Erin snaps, feeling off kilter and strange, because this is Holtzmann and she’s demanding answers that Erin cannot give and Erin can feel a pressure between her shoulder blades that makes her want to run. 

“No, fuck you, Erin,” Holtz snaps; because they’re friends and have been for eight months now. They’ve shared space, lunches, and occasionally sleeping spaces when the night was long and work took hours to finish and the dawn was breaking the dark long before they were seeking their rest. Holtz has come a long way in that time as has Erin, and their relationship is closer than the others, because they’re just as much workaholics as each other. 

Erin slams her palms down on the desk surface as she shoots to her feet and her hands are stinging and she can feel the pain radiating up her forearms and her eyes are stinging and her chest is aching and her breath is coming in short, sharp gasps and Erin really, really wants to scream but she doesn’t. She stands there and she pants and she stares at Jillian and bites back everything she wants to say because the things she wants to say should never be spoken.

Holtz is shaking her head, eyes disappointed, “why won’t you tell me?” Her teeth are clenched together and all she can feel is the heat of frustration sweeping her body and it’s like a sickness that boils in the pit of her belly, acid tainting everything she is. “Just, tell me, Erin,” Holtzmann demands, pressing her body further forwards until her hips are pressed against the lip of the desk and she’s so close to Erin now that she can feel the hot air that Erin’s open mouth breathes out as it sweeps along her cheekbones and she can see Erin’s eyes, dilated and shiny with tears, and the way they are more grey than green but then the light will catch them at the right moment and god, Holtz is so fucking breathless and wanting and she needs to make this better but Erin just. wont. speak. 

Erin lets out an inarticulate scream and shoves herself away from the desk and all she can feel is the rush of blood through her veins and it’s exhilarating and she’s angry and her fists are clenched tight against her face to the point where she can feel the cords of her tendons and her muscles knotting tightly beneath her skin and she wants to lash out and punch something but she’s been restrained and angry for so long that if she lets loose now, she will hurt someone. Jillian, probably. And Erin cannot do that.

“Erin!” Holtz is pressuring her, determined and unafraid. She can see the turmoil beneath the surface and the way Erin is so, so, so angry and frustrated, and Holtz is certain that the is this great big black hole in Erin’s chest that sucks everything in and makes her dull and lifeless and safe. “Erin,” Holtz whispers as she stretches out a hand to brush her shoulders and Erin’s shoulders roll inwards until her face is tucked in her arms and her shirt is stretched tight across her back and she’s huddled over and Holtz can barely make her out as a human at all – and something deep inside Jillian splits and breaks because this is the most heartbreaking thing she has ever seen.

“Erin…”

And Erin, who has spent her life in denial, who has tried to be the good person, who has been determined and controlled her entire life, spins around with her face red with blood and her eyes wild and wet and her mouth open and harshly breathing and her hair a sticky, spiky mess around her face and she screams…

“I HATE THEM!”

And Erin grabs her coffee mug, the one that Abby bought her as a “Welcome Back” mug after being fired from Columbia University and throws it hard at the wall and watches with cold, cruel satisfaction as it smashes into a thousand pieces and then it’s like the heat, the fire, that had sustained her in those brief moments was suddenly extinguished because her face fell and she crumbled in on herself until she collapsed to her knees and pressed her face to the floor.

Holtz lands heavily beside her, knees stinging with the force of her impact, and she wraps strong, skinny arms around Erin and hauled her in close and rocked them both back and forth as Erin’s mutterings slowly became more and more audible and Jillian’s heart broke all over again because it was too much, too much for one person to bear, too much for Erin to have gone through, and this tiny little thing was the straw that broke the camels back. Erin had been Atlas for so long and Jillian was crying with her grief.

“I hate them, Jill,” Erin was muttering over and over. “I hate them, I hate them, I hate them and they can never know because they’re my parents and I love them but I hate them…

“I hate what they did to me, I hate that they never believed in me and I hate that I grew up into this because I’m so weak, I’m so angry, and all I want is to hurt people and I’m just so, so angry all the time… 

“Jill, help, please, I don’t want to hurt them, I don’t want to hurt you, and I really, really want to hurt Abby but she’s my friend and I can’t do this, I can’t forgive them, don’t make me go, please, please, please, Jillian, help me!”

And Erin’s choking and crying and her throat is tightly closed and she’s gasping into Jillian’s neck and clutching her tight and Jillian’s skin is bruising beneath Erin’s hands but it’s not enough, they’re not close enough and Erin’s world is collapsing as thirty years of pain and anger comes rushing out and the tears that streak her face are hot and heavy and they feel almost viscous they’re so thick and Erin can’t stop, she can’t stop, she just can’t stop…

And Jillian is wrapped tightly around her, rocking her, soothing her, and Erin’s falling to pieces and the ground is dusty and hard beneath their knees and the lab, with the soft ticking and hissing of the containment units, is filled with the sound of hard sobbing and the shuffling of bodies as they press closer together and rearrange constantly around each other until Jillian is sitting with Erin in her lap and the spindly, tall, lanky physicist is curled up as best she can in her much shorter friends lap and it’s not enough but it’s the best they can do and Erin feels empty on her other sides, she wishes Abby and Patty were there, but they not and Jillian is and for now it’s enough. 

As silence resumes, Erin has all but stopped sobbing and muttering her anguish and is boneless and crying in Jillian’s embrace and she’s staring out the window at the rust red of the warehouse building opposite them and she can see pigeons on the roof and Erin isn’t really thinking anymore, she’s just drifting, exhausted and empty.

Jillian is still wrapped around her, rubbing her back and trying to soothe her friend and she worries its not enough. Her words are choked up behind her teeth and they’re crammed in the narrow spaces of her ribs and all she wants to do is make sure Erin knows she loves her and cares for her and she’s never felt this emotionally vulnerable since she was a teenager and she wonder’s how Erin can stand it.

Erin lifts her head and stares up at Jillian and her skin is pale and wane and her eyes are red and there is a layer of snot and tears covering most of her face but Jillian’s not much better and they both look like messes but neither of them really care. Erin half smiles and rests her head back against Jillian’s shoulder and stares back out the window at the pigeons and slowly begins to loosen up.

“She used to whisper things to me,” Erin confides quietly, “I was eight years old and she used to hover above me and call me a murderer and she used to snatch at me and most of the time, her hands would go through me and she was so cold and the ectoplasm went everywhere but still they didn’t believe me and they definitely didn’t believe me on the nights when she wasn’t formless and transparent and they found me dangling from my seond floor bedroom window screaming for help.”

Jillian’s heart plummeted to the very depths of her belly and her hold tightened on Erin in horrified disbelief. “No,” she whispers in denial, “she tried to kill you?”

Erin nodded her head slowly, “I never told Abby, I couldn’t, I just said she would stand there, watching me, but I would hide under the blankets and not look at her and she would get angry and she would try to make me look at her and when that didn’t work, she would try to convince me to jump – I never did.”

“Erin, Erin, Erin,” Jillian gasps softly and desperately, running her hands over Erin’s shoulders and back and hips, reassuring herself that Erin was still there in her arms, safe and sound and that the ghost from twenty years ago hadn’t succeeded and Jillian is so fucking scared but so impressed and all she wants to do is kiss Erin but she can’t. Not right now. But later, later she will, because she needs the reassurance and Erin’s needs to know and Jillian can’t hide this anymore because Erin almost died when she was eight, several times, and Jillian might never have known her.

Erin feels warmed by Jillian’s concern and she presses herself backwards a faint smile crawling across her lips, and she tilts her head up to meet Jillian’s gaze. “I’m okay,” she tells her softly because this, what Jillian’s doing now, is something she’s needed for years because no one had ever reacted like this when she’d told them about nearly dying; everyone else called her an attention seeker, a liar, a drama queen. But Jillian isn’t, she’s desperately trying to reassure herself that Erin’s still here, that she’s alive and that Erin isn’t going away ever again. And that, Erin thinks, is by far the sweetest and kindest thing anyone’s ever done.

Jillian shakes her head and presses a kiss to Erin’s forehead and thins her lips. “But you weren’t,” she says angrily, tears pricking at her eyes again, “you weren’t and they didn’t listen to you and I’m angry and I’m scared and you were eight years old, Erin, a child, and you should never have gone through that and I am so, so sorry, baby girl, I’m so, so sorry.”

Erin smiles, relieved, and reaches up and tangles a hand in Jillian’s hair and pulls their faces together and presses their cheeks together and she can feel the hitch of Jillian’s breath but she’s not ready for anything sexual, she just needs comfort and she knows Jillian knows this and so she just sits there, cheek to cheek with Jillian Holtzmann and revels in the silence around them.

Erin knows she’s not okay and maybe she never will be, she’s been through hell and come out the other side. But Jillian is here and right now, in this moment, with the steady hum of the containment units behind them, and the squawk of the pigeons and seagulls outside, and the slow even breath of her and Jillian between them, Erin feels a lot more whole than she has in a good long time. 

This, she realises with clarity and solidity, is home. It’s a remarkable feeling and one that has stolen over her in the past few months. But Erin knows this feeling, because she has never felt this solid, this firm, this rooted and grounded or this safe in her life. And it can all be laid at the feet of the remarkable woman who was holding her tight and safe in her arms and Erin begins to laugh…

It’s a deep, belly, body shaking laugh and Jillian’s staring at her in concern, as though she’s worried that Erin’s about to start crying again and Erin cannot help but wipe her face on her sleeve, cleaning herself up, and then start to press kisses to Jillian’s face.

The blonde engineer is frozen beneath her, but Erin’s happy, and safe, and calm and she has never felt like this in her forty-two years and she’s not letting this moment escape and she’s sobbing and laughing and Jillian is kissing her back just as desperately and just as happily and Erin stills their moments, staring into those crystal blue eyes and her hands are stiff and tight against Jillian’s face as she cradles it with such soft gentleness, treasuring this woman with everything she is.

“I love you,” Erin tells Jillian for the first time, but she’s unable to say much else, so she repeats herself disbelievingly beause this is unexpected but it’s amazing and Jillian’s crying and smiling and Erin’s never seen anyone so beautiful in her life. “I love you,” Erin says again, “I love you, Jillian Holtzmann and I never knew and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long but I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And Jillian laughs and laughs and laughs, her eyes closed, her mouth open, and her body shaking with her joy and delight. “Erin, Erin, Erin,” Jillian breathes out between peppered kisses across Erin’s cheeks, Erin’s forehead, over Erin’s lips and jaw, “I love you too, god, how I love you…”

And, this, Erin realises, this is what true happiness is; more than tenure, more than acceptance, being held and loved in Jillian Holtzmann’s arms is true happiness and security and Erin plans on never letting her go…


End file.
